


You Taste like Home

by nikitabaggins



Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:01:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25162063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nikitabaggins/pseuds/nikitabaggins
Summary: **Disclaimer** I own nothing. Writing SOA Fanfiction in 2020 because why not! I’m rewatching the series and DAMN if Chibs isn’t just super hot.You arrive at Teller-Morrow needing your car fixed and end up staying after growing attatched to a certain biker. There’s fluff, drama, violence, and drinking - so much drinking.If you read please review and let me know I’m not the only one still on the SOA bandwagon xx
Relationships: Chibs Telford/Reader, Chibs Telford/You
Comments: 1
Kudos: 17





	1. Chapter 1

You drove. The sound of the engine and the radio numbing your mind as you put the miles on the clock. You were running. From everything. Your whole life had been turned upside down and your only solution was to try and outrun the pain. So you drove. Days and nights passed unnoticed. You only stopped to fuel and occasionally eat. You never stopped in one place for long. You barely ever checked in to a motel for sleep. If you needed to sleep you slept in the car on a quiet stretch of road. You showered at rest stops.The only thing that kept you going was the endless stretch of highway before you.

You had caught the first available flight to America and landed in Chicago two weeks ago. You bought a cheap car and just started driving. You had no destination. No goal. You just wanted the pain to stop. Your chest felt like a hollow chasm that ached. If you let yourself stop and think you would crumble. Hot tears burned at the back of your throat threatening at any moment to overspill. But you could cry no more. Weeks you had spent crying, unable to pick yourself up from the floor. Unable to move, unable to comprehend, unable to go on. They say that time heals all wounds, but this one would remain raw forever. So you had left. Left the only place you had ever called home. Left your memories. Left everything that was familiar. With the faintest breath of hope you boarded that plane. Hope that one day you would wake up in the morning and it wouldn’t destroy you. Until then you drove. 

You used to love driving. You had learned as soon as you could, itching to get behind the wheel, longing to discover the endless possibilities that the road could lead to. Once you had your license you were never at home. Spending every evening and weekend in your beat up car, you fell in love with the freedom. You could go anywhere, see anything, be anyone. You didn’t need much. Only fuel, cigarettes and coffee. More often than not you would sleep in lay-bys, only for a few hours, before setting off to see more. Sometimes you just drove as you were now, no destination, but simply for the pleasure of the steering wheel beneath your hands and the countryside whipping past your window.

This land was about as far from home as you could get. The hot sun beat down relentlessly day after day. Your thighs stuck together and sweat dampened the back of your neck. You didn’t get heat like this where you come from. The landscape foreign and welcome. You didn’t want to be reminded of home. You didn’t want fond memories to infiltrate your paralysed mind. You just wanted to forget. The only thing that remained the same was the pack of cigarettes in the passenger seat. You welcomed each one like an old friend. You hands handled them with familiarity, knowing what to do without thinking. The easy action of lighting one, inhaling and exhaling, as practised as getting dressed in the morning. That was the only habit you had brought with you. 

As you brought one to your lips and took a drag, the smoke curled up into the car before filtering out into the air, the engine gave a wheezing cough and a splutter.

“Fuck.” You murmured. It was not entirely unexpected. Pushing an old thing like this day and night for weeks was going to have consequences at some point. You looked for the next exit on the interstate and pulled the car over. The sooner you could limp it to a garage the sooner you could be back on the road. With the Californian sun dipping behind, you drove towards the nearest town, “Charming” was written on the road signs. “Nights in White Satin” began playing in the radio. You flicked the cigarette out of the open window and continued to drive.

Juice wiped his hands with a rag and squinted up at the lowered sun. Finishing time at last. He turned and headed back into the garage. A wheezy screeching sound made him turn around. A severely beat up car was rolling into the parking lot. The car may have been blue. Once. The rust and grime was the more prominent colouring now. He suppressed a sigh as it huffed into a space.  
“What the fuck.” He muttered under his breath. The door was thrown open and a figure got out the far side. A woman turned to face him and moved her shades down her nose. She was the same height as him, slightly taller maybe. Her chestnut red hair emphasised her milky pale skin. Juice felt his mood perk up.

He began sauntering towards the vehicle.

“Sorry miss but we’ve just closed for the day.” The woman crinkled her nose.  
“Shite, I thought ye would be, but it was worth a try. Any chance ye’s could have a look at it tomorrow?” Juice stared at the woman curiously, her accent similar to Chibs but very different to the Glaswegian.  
“I’m pretty sure we could do that.” He nodded. The young woman sigh heavily and looked around her.  
“Any place in this town I can stay? Or can I sleep in this –“ she kicked the tire “-heap of shite.” Juice grinned.  
“There’s no hotels or anything like that in Charming, let me ask around.” He turned and headed back to the garage.

“CHIBS” he shouted. A minute later the Scotsman appeared in the doorway.  
“This better be fucking important shit-for-brains.” Juice could feel the glare through the sunglasses and grinned.  
“Oh, it is, a small matter of accommodation.”  
“Accoma- what the fuck are ye talking about?” Juice motioned for him to follow and walked out into the evening sun.

The woman was now resting against the trunk smoking a cigarette. Her long toned legs were outstretched and crossed at the ankles. Her head was thrown back and her hair was hanging down. Chibs clapped Juice on the back.

“This is already worth it shit-for-brains.” The Scotsman grinned and headed for the car.  
“You don’t even know the half of it.” Juice murmured.

As he approached his shadow cast over the woman’s face. She pushed her sunglasses down her nose and gazed up at him quizzically.  
“Ah hear you need accommodation advice.” Her jaw dropped slightly and she stared in astonishment at him. Chibs frowned.  
“Do ye speak English?” He asked. She nodded, her mouth still open and still staring at him. “Then what’s wrong with ye?” His frown deepened and he gestured to his face. “Ah ken it’s no pretty but there’s no need to stare.” He turned on his heel and began storming away.

“Wait!” She shouted. He turned to see her rushing after him. “I wasn’t being rude, it’s just, I wasn’t expecting to hear a Scot’s accent.” She pulled her glasses from her face and looked at him with big blue eyes. At the sound of her soft accent his mouth went dry.  
“You’re a Scot?” He asked incredulously. She nodded nervously. “How the fuck did ye end up in Charming?” She glanced at the ground under her feet. He noticed a dusting of freckles across her pale nose.  
“It’s a long story,” she paused and looked up at him again. “Maybe to be told over a dram or two?” Chibs quirked an eyebrow.  
“You drink whisky?” He asked. The lassie smirked.  
“I prefer single malts, the more mature the better.” He felt his mouth turn up into a smirk of his own.  
“Not just a pretty face I see.” The girl grinned and bit her lip between pearly white teeth. She held out her hand.  
“Y/N.” Chibs took her little hand in his large one, noticing how soft her hands were.  
“Filip Telford, but everyone calls me Chibs, no need to explain why to you eh?” Her eyes traced the scar that ran from one cheek across to the other and flicked up to his dark brown eyes.  
“I don’t suppose so.” She said quietly. Chibs coughed.  
“So I hear you’re in need of accommodation?” He said quickly, suddenly feeling self-conscious under her scrutiny.  
“I just need that-“ She glanced over her shoulder “Sorry excuse for a car to get fixed. Yer man over there said you’s can do it tomorrow. He also said there’s nae hotels around here.”  
Chibs frowned when he noticed the state of the car.  
“We have a clubhouse that has rooms. It’d be nae bother if you wanted to stay there. You can share your story over a bottle of single malt I have.” She opened her mouth to reply and then looked at the ground again.  
“I don’t mean to offend, but I’m really not the sort of lass to… y’know.” The Scotsman noticed a pretty blush spread over her cheeks. He laughed,  
“I didny mean that love, ye can crash there, we’ll fix yer car first thing and you can be on your way to-?” As relief washed over her features she shrugged.  
“Your guess is as good as mine. I’m not sure where I’m going.” Chibs felt his brow furrow and shook his head.  
“Well then the sooner you tell me your long story the better.” She smiled at him and he thought that the sun might as well have heat up his cheeks as he felt them burn. He felt lighter, almost giddy, like a schoolboy. All the pussy in California couldn’t have made him blush like he was. He didn’t think it was possible.  
“This way madam.”


	2. Chapter 2

You followed the Scotsman, Chibs, towards the garage. Eyes tracing his figure with interest, taking in the mans appearance. He had black silver hair that didn’t age him as it may have others. What wasn’t covered in leather had a few tattoos and he walked with a swagger that came from confidence, not arrogance. You might have been attracted to him if he had been American. But Mary mother of God, that accent could make your knees tremble and your pulse race. You had always loved a thick accent, unlike the softly spoken lilt you were familiar with. 

As you both drew closer to the garage you became aware of several men, all of them had their curious stares trained on you. Subconsciously you straightened your back and held your head up a fraction. Being stared at by men was not new for you, you had worked behind a bar from the age of 17, so you had practised the art form of appearing confident and at ease – when the truth was the opposite. You scanned the men in front of you. An odd mix of older and younger men, all united by the leather vests they were wearing. “Sons of Anarchy” you read under your breath. Okay, so they were a motorbike crew who run a garage. Nothing strange about that. But you couldn’t place the feeling that there was something dangerous about them. You moved a little closer to the Scotsman, for some reason unknown to you, you felt safer with someone you shared a nationality with. 

“Who’s your new lady friend Chibs?” One with blue eyes and a shock of curly black hair stepped forwards, smiling at you in a way a cat might if he had caught a mouse.   
“Y/N is a customer, so play nice.” Chibs replied, glaring at Tig.   
“I always play nice sweetheart, want to show me what those hands can do?” Tig winked and you felt a growl in the back of your throat.   
“My hands can do many things, like strangle you.” You smiled sweetly. Tig grinned broadly.   
“Just the way I like it sweetheart.” You rolled your eyes and huffed out a breath of air.   
“There’s always one twisted fucker.” The group of men laughed and a younger man with shoulder length blonde hair stepped forwards.   
“Looks like Chibs’ new customer lady friend has claws.” He said over his shoulder. He turned back to face you and took your hand. “Nice to meet you darlin’, I’m Jax.” His smirk was infectious as you felt yourself smiling back.   
“Pleasure.” Jax swept his other arm towards the men.   
“This here is Opie, Bobby, Happy, Tig, Juice and of course, you’ve already met Chibs.” Each one nodded to you in turn and you waved your free hand.   
“Hello.” Chibs had moved back and was leaning against a work bench with his arms and ankles crossed. You weren’t sure where to look with so many eyes on so you pretended to examine your surroundings whilst surreptitiously keeping an eye on Chibs. A door to your left opened and an attractive older woman stepped out,   
“Are we all taking a piss break or what?” Approaching the group of men without hesitation and the presence of a Matriarch. She had dark hair with blonde streaks, style, and an amazing body. You immediately liked her.  
“Hey ma, this is Y/N”, Jax gestured towards you. “Y/N needs us to fix up her car tomorrow so we were just about to invite her to stay the night.”   
The older woman raised an eyebrow and looked you up and down.   
“Stay the night huh? You think you can handle a clubhouse full of my boys sweetheart?” You felt your lips turn into a smirk as you glanced around the group again.   
“I’ve had wilder tea parties.” The men around you erupted into laughter again, whilst Chibs was looking at you like you’d done something right. You drew your eyes back level with Jax’s mother. Both of her eyebrows raised as she smiled warmly, she held out her hand.  
“I’m Gemma sweetheart, c’mon let me show you around. The boys can wash up before dinner.”

An hour later and you were in Gemmas house, she had introduced you to Clay, the head of the club, as well as Tara and Lyla. You fell into easy conversation with the younger women, even laughing, as you helped prepare dinner. They were warm and friendly towards you, never asking too many questions, and not having a problem with welcoming you into their group. “Family” Gemma has called it. You gazed around you at the bustling activity. It was just like home. Your breath caught and you leaned heavily on the sink as the ache in your chest got stronger.   
“You okay darlin’?” Gemma murmured. You smiled and nodded.   
“I’m fine.” She snorted softly and looked at you in disbelief.   
“Yeah right, cmon and help me dish out the plates, then you can have a beer and a seat.” You dutifully grabbed the plates and took them to the table. The men were already seated, jostling and joking loudly, not noticing your presence as laid the plates in front of them. As you reached down to lay a plate in front of Chibs you brushed against his arm. He turned to you and smiled.   
“Alright lass?” You smiled back, trying to ignore the earthy scent of heather and the flips your stomach was now doing. You moved on to put down Jax and Clays plates before turning back to the kitchen.   
“Anything else ye need a hand with Gemma?” The older woman smiled and cupped your cheek.   
“Grab a beer and sit down.”


End file.
